“Rachel, don’t be a bitch.”
“But I’m so good at it.”
“You know as well as I do that we were finished.” She sounds tired, probably because she had to come home from a nice evening with her new girlfriend and deal with me.
I often have that effect on people. “Actually, you’re the one who decided that. I didn’t have much say in the matter.”
“Really?” The skepticism comes through loud and clear. “We never really started, Rachel, because you never got over Bartlett. You were only with me to make him mad, or jealous, or horny, for all I know.”
“That’s not true.” It’s not the first time Liv has thrown the accusation at me. I’ve also heard it from Biba, my other best friend Demi, as well as Bartlett himself. They all think I switched teams to spite him.
I didn’t.
My attraction to Liv was real and true, and so were my feelings. But what still makes me wonder is if the awe-like fascination I had for her had something to do with Olivia Coleman being the type of woman that I thought I needed to be—determined, focused, and able to manage life with a firm hand.
The type of woman Bartlett’s new girlfriend is.
But both those relationships are closed chapters in my life, and I’m back to being the badass I am—smart, snarky, a whiz with colours, and with the ability to corral any number of dogs.
“I think it is,” Liv says quietly. “But I’m not about to argue with you. It’s not worth it.”
It’s not worth itis the same as saying I’m not worth it; another way of Liv declaring her indifference.
It would hurt less if she said she hated me.
But I push away the bruised bit before it spoils the rest of me. “You’d never win,” I sneer.
“It’s not always about winning.”
“Then you’re doing it wrong.”
“Jesus, Rachel. I called to apologize for keeping the stupid toy, even though you broke into my place.”
“It’s not called a break-in if you still have a key.”
“I think it’s time I get that back, don’t you?”
It’s over with Liv; I know it’s over. But hanging on to the key has been me having a little bit of hope left that I won’t always be alone.
“I’ll drop it off tomorrow,” I say in a low voice.
I don’t know if Liv can sense my change of mood. She was always good at pulling me up and levelling me off. “I’m sorry things ended the way they did. It wasn’t fair.”
Neither was me using her to get over Bartlett, but Liv is too good of a person to say that. Still, it’s the closest I’ll ever get to an apology from her and the kick for me to add my own apology. “I’m sorry I broke into your place.” I add the reluctance to my voice so Liv won’t think this is a slam-dunk win.
Life isn’t all about winning, but it is more fun when you do.
“I’m sorry I kept the stuffie,” Liv adds. “I know Rusty loves it. How is he?”
“He still looks for you,” I admit.
“I miss him. Give him a belly rub for me.”
I pause for a moment, the angel on the right tussling with the devil on the left. Angel wins. “Liv? About the smell?”
“That was you?” Liv explodes. “Did you have something on the bottom of your shoe when you came in?”
“Check the basket.” She’ll know what I mean. I’m surprised she hadn’t found the baggie sooner.
